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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013130">we're going to be okay (thats what's going to happen)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXQueenofDragonsXx/pseuds/xXQueenofDragonsXx'>xXQueenofDragonsXx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Carl Grimes What-if's [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, BAMF Michonne (Walking Dead), Carl Grimes Lives, Childbirth, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Death, Minor Rick Grimes/Michonne, Parent Michonne (Walking Dead), Recovery, What-If, not really graphic though</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:00:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,094</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXQueenofDragonsXx/pseuds/xXQueenofDragonsXx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two months have passed since the bridge had exploded with Carl's dad on it, and Michonne has something to tell him that might just help the three remaining Grimes's with their grief. </p><p>Or in other words, a story where Carl is alive when RJ Grimes is born.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Carl Grimes &amp; Judith Grimes, Carl Grimes &amp; Michonne, Carl Grimes &amp; RJ | Rick Junior (Walking Dead)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Carl Grimes What-if's [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Going to be Okay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Can I talk to you?"</p><p> </p><p>Carl stumbles at the sound of her voice, nearly dropping his cup of coffee in his surprise. He straightens up, adjusting his hat before curiously turning to look at Michonne: who was sitting on the couch reading a book, having just put Judith to bed a couple of minutes before. It had gotten harder to get that little girl to sleep lately, especially since... especially since...</p><p> </p><p>Carl swallows down the lump in his throat and tries pushing any thoughts of his dad out of his mind. It's only been two months since the bridge explosion, and the wound hadn't gotten any less raw. The stares that the people of Alexandria send him and Michonne don't really help: they all look so pitying, and Carl is so fucking tired of people feeling sorry for him and pitying him. It's like when he lost his eye all over again, except this time, it's at least a hundred times worse. </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, sure, what is it?" Carl asks, giving Michonne a strained smile as he approaches. She scoots over, patting the empty spot beside her on the couch. Carl sits down, careful to keep his coffee from spilling onto the floor. He knows it's probably a horrible idea to drink coffee before bed -- but Carl would take insomnia over all the nightmares that sleep brought to him any day: of the groans of walkers, his dad's slumped over figure on the other side, the bridge exploding...</p><p> </p><p>"I..." Michonne trails off, a look of anxiousness overcoming her. Carl finds himself frowning, a thread of worry burning in the pit of his stomach. Michonne rarely ever looked anxious or nervous or anything like that, so to see her looking like that only makes his heart speed up and his mind races with a hundred different scenarios on what could have happened to make Michonne this way.</p><p> </p><p>"Is everything alright?" Carl can't help but ask. "You're not hurt or anything, are you?" He prays that isn't the case. Carl knows he can't take losing anyone else so soon, especially someone like Michonne. It would be like losing his mom all over again. If something were to happen to Michonne and he and Judith were left alone...</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't even want to <em> think </em>about that possibility. </p><p> </p><p>She must have seen the terror and worry crossing his face, for she rests a hand on his shoulder, a smile -- albeit a small one -- painting her lips. "I'm okay, Carl. I'm not dying," her voice is kind and gentle but filled with understanding, "It's just... you remember that bug I had?"</p><p> </p><p>Carl nods. He knows that Michonne had tried to hide it as not to worry him or Judith, but he's a light sleeper, and he remembers waking up a couple of times to Michonne throwing up in the bathroom. Apparently, it had been happening ever since his dad... since the bridge exploded, so obviously Carl had insisted on Michonne going to see Siddiq. She had been reluctant, but Carl is quite well known for being stubborn as hell.</p><p> </p><p>"What about it? Did you figure out what it is? It's nothing life-threatening, is it?" He fires off question after question, the worry overwhelming him once more despite Michonne's earlier assurances. "Is there something wrong? Siddiq gave you medicine for it, didn't - hey! Why are you laughing?" </p><p> </p><p>Carl resists the urge to cross his arms as Michonne bursts into a fit of giggles, instead taking a sip of his coffee. He tries scowling at her, but despite his attempt, he can still feel the corners of his mouth twitching up into a small smile. Not that he's really complaining much. It feels nice to be able to smile again and not having it be forced. He can tell that Michonne feels the same way.</p><p> </p><p>Michonne straightens up, her expression turning serious. "Siddiq gave me medicines for the throwing up and shit. But he says he says that this type of bug can stick around for quite a while."</p><p> </p><p>Carl's brows furrowed in confusion and worry, "how long?"</p><p> </p><p>"About nine months or so."</p><p> </p><p>Carl remains silent for a couple of moments. He stares over at Michonne, trying to read the expression on her face.</p><p> </p><p>"That's... an awfully long time," Carl says after a minute, "is it dangerous?"</p><p> </p><p>Michonne snorts, shaking her head. "No, Carl. It isn't dangerous."</p><p> </p><p>"But Siddiq can't do anything about it? Like some kind of medicine or something?" </p><p> </p><p>"No. Only for the stomach aches and such."</p><p> </p><p>Carl narrows his eye when he sees the amused expression on Michonne's face. "Why are you smiling like that? This is serious, Michonne! Sicknesses that last that long can be dangerous, especially now that-"</p><p> </p><p>"Carl, there's nothing any of us can do about it until it's born."</p><p> </p><p>It takes Carl a second or two to register this, but when the realization dawns upon him, he straightens up, the mug he's holding trembling in his hands. A flood of emotions washed through him all at once, a mix of confusion, surprise, fear, happiness, and worry. "Wait, you're-"</p><p> </p><p>Michonne gives him a sad smile. "Yes."</p><p> </p><p>"It's his?"</p><p> </p><p>Michonne cuffs him over the head, giving him an annoyed look. "Who else would it be?" </p><p> </p><p>"Sorry, I just-" Flashes of his mom's death appear in his mind, and he can't help the pit of fear churning in his stomach. While Carl knows that his mom had simply been really, really unlucky -- that the need for a c-section along with the lack of a doctor in the area all played roles in her death and that there was nothing he could have done to help her, he can't help the worry and fear now flooding through him. All sorts of scenarios race around in his head on repeat. He sees his mom's death, but in his mom's place, he sees Michonne, and Carl feels his throat begin to clog up as the steadily growing panic threatens to overcome him.</p><p> </p><p>Before he even realizes what's happening, Michonne is taking his cup of coffee from his hands, placing it down on the ground and gently wrapping her arms around him. "Hey, this isn't gonna be like what happened to your mom," she says softly, and Carl finds himself totally unsurprised that she knew what he was thinking of without him even saying anything. "We have countless doctors here - the chances of something like that happening is pretty damn low. Especially since I've never had a c-section before." </p><p> </p><p>"But what if it does?" Carl whispers back, his voice surprisingly small. "I don't... I can't..." he closes his eye, taking in a deep breath to try and calm his rapidly beating heart. "I can't lose you too, Michonne... I just can't." Michonne only hugs him tighter, and he buries his face into the crook of her neck, trying to stop the tears that are threatening to fall. </p><p> </p><p>"Nothing is going to happen to me," She tells him, and the certainty in her voice makes Carl feel a little bit better, "but even if something does happen, you're going to have to go on, you know that. Judith will need you, and so will this one," Michonne pulls away, motioning to her stomach where Carl can already see the start of a bump forming. It's small, but Carl is still kind of shocked that he hadn't noticed it before. Maybe his grief had been getting in the way of him thinking clearly. </p><p> </p><p>His dad-</p><p> </p><p>"The baby isn't going to have a dad..." Carl says quietly after a moment, his mind wandering over to little Hershel Rhee, who also would never get that chance -- and then to Judith, who would never even remember her mother. Michonne flinches back at his words but nods. </p><p> </p><p>"They won't," she agrees, "but they'll have a mother, a sister, a shit ton of aunts and uncles-" Carl snorts at this "-and an amazing big brother to make up for it." </p><p> </p><p>Carl ducks his head, unable to stop the smile from forming on his face. "How long have you known?"</p><p> </p><p>Michonne shrugs, "a month or so - I started suspecting later on when the morning sickness wouldn't leave. Siddiq only confirmed it."</p><p> </p><p>"I'm... surprised you kept it a secret."</p><p> </p><p>"Well, not anymore. I'm planning on telling Judith next. Not that she'll really understand it, but..."</p><p> </p><p>Carl can't hide the grin spreading over his face. "I think she'll just be happy not to be the youngest Grimes anymore."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," Michonne smiles back at him, and although there's a horrible bittersweetness hanging in the air, Carl can feel a starburst of happiness blooming inside of him after a long two months of total darkness. It's a feeling that is so brilliant and so bright that all the guilt and grief and fear inside him seems so small and powerless in comparison to it. Carl can't help the tears that start falling from his eye, and unlike before, these ones are tears of joy instead of grief. </p><p> </p><p>Michonne pulls him into a hug, and Carl lets her. He knows that they still have a long way to go before things are alright again, but right now, everything seems a little less horrible than it had before. This makes him squeeze Michonne tighter as she combs her fingers through his hair. </p><p> </p><p>"We're going to be alright, I promise you that," Michonne says quietly, resting her chin on top of his head, refusing to let go of Carl. He doesn't want her to anyway. </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah," he mumbles in return, "I know."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The New Grimes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">A Few Months Later</span> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Carl wakes up one night to a gentle shoving on his shoulders. He groans weakly, flopping over onto his side, still half asleep even as the prodding refuses to relent. </p><p> </p><p>"Judith, go to sleep..." he mumbles sleepily, reaching out to find his pillow. When he does, he promptly buries his head underneath it, trying to ignore the tiny hands beating insistently at his shoulders. "What are you even doing up..?"</p><p> </p><p>"There's something wrong with Mommy," Judith's quiet voice states worriedly. Carl's eye snaps open almost instantly, lifting the pillow from his head to see Judith standing at the side of his bed, her chubby little fingers still clenching Carl's nightshirt as her lower lip wobbles.</p><p> </p><p>Carl throws the blanket off of him as soon as the words register in his mind, worry and fear flooding through him. Judith steps back, her baby blue eyes wide with confusion and concern as Carl reaches for the knife on his bedside table. He pulls on his boots, once again thankful that he keeps them so close to his bed. </p><p> </p><p>He looks toward Judith, still trembling in the polar bear pajamas Daryl had found for her before he disappeared into wherever. Carl knows he should have cared more about where Daryl went, but after learning of he and Maggie's part in the bridge explosion -- after learning he was the reason his dad had been there at the bridge in the first place -- Carl found he couldn't care less about where Daryl is, the man can take care of himself too. Right now, the only thing Carl should worry about is Michonne, Judith, and his unborn little brother or sister. </p><p> </p><p>A horrifying thought fills his mind: "Is Mommy having the baby?" He asks Judith quietly, trying to keep his voice from quivering as he climbs up to his feet. The poor girl looks terrified, and Carl gently pulls her into his arms, resting her on his hip as he ventures out into the hall, keeping a tight grip on his knife just in case. </p><p> </p><p>Judith's arms wind around Carl's neck, and she buries her face into his shirt. "I dunno," the little girl says, her voice sounding muffled from Carl's shirt, "she started making weird noises earlier, like groans, and I couldn't get the door open. She sounds like she's hurt..." </p><p> </p><p>Groans...?</p><p> </p><p>Like groans of pain or ones of... a walker?</p><p> </p><p>Carl tries to stop the fear that bubbles up inside of him at the mere thought of something like that happening. Instead, he makes his way down the hall to Michonne's room, his fingers curling around the doorknob. He tries turning it, but despite his best attempts. Carl resists the urge to swear, suddenly remembering that Michonne had a habit of sleeping with her bedroom door locked. She had been doing that since Jocelyn -- since that <em> bitch </em>came and kidnapped Alexandria's kids.</p><p> </p><p>He raps his knuckles over the door. "Michonne?" </p><p> </p><p>The only response is a faint whimper. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Carl turns, rushing down the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Carl then places Judith down on the kitchen counter, opening up one of the cabinets and pulling out a spare set of keys that jingle and rattles as he picks them up. Carl remembers Michonne putting those in there just in case. Carl is just glad she hadn't moved them since then, then he might have had to break the door with an axe or something. </p><p> </p><p>He closes the cabinet door, pulling Judith back into his arms and rushing back up the stairs. The moment he reaches Michonne's door, he starts going through the keys, trying to figure out which one belongs to this door. He has to put Judith down, but even as he does this, she doesn't stray too far, instead clinging to his pajama pants in a surprisingly firm grip for someone her age. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, <em> finally </em>-- Carl finds the correct key, practically shoving it into the lock. He turns it, sighing in relief as the lock clicks. He reaches back for the doorknob, turning it and opening it slowly. Carl steps inside, his gaze scouring the room and landing on the slumped over figure by the giant bed in the middle of the room: Michonne. She looks up as he and Judith enter, her face scrunched up in what is obviously pain. She tries getting up, but she falls back down with a pained groan.</p><p> </p><p>Carl rushes forward, taking in the sweat that trickles down the side of her face and the way her arm curls around her swollen stomach. "Here, lean on me," he says softly, grabbing one of her arms and looping it over his shoulders. She nods, in too much pain to really speak, and starts getting up once more. She almost falls over again, but Carl holds her up, taking a slow step forward. </p><p> </p><p>"Come on, we need to get you to Siddiq," he says to her, "do you think you can walk that far?" Michonne opens her mouth, probably to say something, but another spasm of pain ripples through her, and she simply shakes her head. Carl nods, not surprised. He helps her lie down on the large bed, "just stay here, and I'll go get Siddiq, and you'll be just fine." </p><p> </p><p>Michonne nods again, and Carl turns to Judith. "Judy, I need you to run downstairs and get a towel from the kitchen. Once you do, get it wet and use it to cool Mommy down. Can you do that?" The little girl gives a quick nod, darting out the door and down the stairs within seconds. He gives Michonne a quick but strained smile before slipping out the door himself.</p><p> </p><p>He leaves the house, wincing as a blast of cold air sweeps over him. Carl probably should have grabbed a coat or something, but he can hardly care less right now. He simply rushes out into the street, heading in the direction of the infirmary. He breaks into a sprint as he nears, practically banging his fists into the door in his hurry to talk to Siddiq. </p><p> </p><p>"Carl?" A tired-looking Siddiq answers the door a minute or two later, obviously having been woken up by Carl's loud knocking. "What-" he flinches back suddenly, a look of understanding crossing over his face when he takes in the panicked look on Carl's face. "She's having the baby." </p><p> </p><p>Carl nods. Siddiq rushes back inside the infirmary, appearing in the door a couple moments later with a bag slung over his arm. "Bring me to her." He orders, his face filled with determination.</p><p> </p><p>So Carl does.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Carl remembers Hershel Rhee's birth quite well. Maggie had been swearing, yelling, crying, and screaming during the entire thing, which had lasted literal <em> hours, </em> and had actually ended up breaking Carl's hand when he offered it to her to squeeze. He had thought that had been around the worst a birth could be that didn't involve death, but clearly, he had been wrong. </p><p> </p><p>Michonne is a hundred times worse than Maggie had ever been.</p><p> </p><p>"I swear to god. I AM GOING TO MURDER SOMEONE!" Michonne yells out, hissing angrily as another wave of agony overcomes her, having found her voice at some point a couple of hours after the labor first started.</p><p> </p><p>Carl winces as Michonne's grip on his hand tightens. This really makes him glad he never has to go through this.</p><p> </p><p>"I know, Michonne," Siddiq says calmly, wiping a wet towel over her sweaty forehead. "You've been telling me this for the past two hours already."</p><p> </p><p>"And guess what? IT'S TRUE!"</p><p> </p><p>Carl gives Michonne a weak smile when she catches his eye. "Hey, think about it this way. Once this is done, you and I can go out and kill a couple of walkers." He knows that Michonne will probably be too tired to really do much after the baby is born, but the offer does calm her down slightly. </p><p> </p><p>"We're almost done," Siddiq whispers to Carl, "should be sometime soon."</p><p> </p><p>Carl nods, relief swarming him. He doesn't like seeing Michonne in pain. That and he really would like his hand to remain unbroken. "Is she...?"</p><p> </p><p>"Nothing all that horrible so far. Everything seems to be progressing pretty normally-"</p><p> </p><p>Siddiq is cut off as Michonne lets out another string of curses. "Oh, FUCK! Oh god, ow, ow, ow, ow! Fuck!"</p><p> </p><p>"Shit, Laura! Bring more towels, please!" Siddiq calls out from Michonne's side. "Aaron, bring me another bucket of water!"</p><p> </p><p>No one really addressed Carl: he just sat there at Michonne's side in the midst of all the chaos happening around him. While he knows that he probably wouldn't be able to get out of the death grip his step-mother had on his hand, he would have liked to do something more than comfort her. Time seems to slow down as the seconds pass by: Michonne opens up her mouth to let out another wail, but Carl is unable to hear anything other than the ringing in his ears. Siddiq puts a wet towel onto Michonne's head, saying something to her, but his words are muted. Carl can only stare as Michonne lets out another scream, and he yearns to do something to help her other than just sitting here and offering a hand for her to break. He wishes that Michonne doesn't have to be in so much pain. He wishes that-</p><p> </p><p>He wishes that his dad were here.</p><p> </p><p>His dad would know what to do.</p><p> </p><p>"Come on, Michonne! One more push now!"</p><p> </p><p>Michonne has her nose scrunched up as a low groan escapes her lips before her body suddenly recoils back at the release of a wailing baby into Siddiq's arms. Carl looks up, watching as Siddiq immediately goes to work at cleaning the infant. Michonne's grip on Carl's hand loosens, and he gets up slowly, approaching Siddiq and peering at the screaming baby in his arms.</p><p> </p><p>"It's a boy," Siddiq tells them, a grin splitting across the man's face.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A brother. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Carl has a brother.</p><p> </p><p>Behind him, Carl hears Michonne let out a soft sob, not of exhaustion or grief but of joy. Carefully, Siddiq swaddles the baby up in some blankets before gently placing him into Carl's outstretched arms. Instinctively, Carl brings the baby to his chest, staring down at his little brother with wide eyes. He reaches out his free hand, trembling fingers brushing across the baby's silky soft cheek. The baby turns his head, his crying simmering down as he blinks open his eyes to focus up on his older brother. Carl feels a smile splitting across his lips, along with a wave of love that washes over him with no warning. Tears start welling up in his eye, but Carl doesn't bother stopping them.</p><p> </p><p>"Hey there, little guy," Carl says softly, leaning down to kiss the forehead of the tiny babe. "I'm your big brother." </p><p> </p><p>He looks over at Michonne, slowly making his way back to her bedside and sitting down on the rickety chair stationed beside her bed so she can hold her newborn son. Eagerly, his step-mother sits up slightly, leaning on the various pillows piled up behind her and holding out her arms. With only a little bit of reluctance, Carl passes the squirming baby into her waiting arms, a part of Carl still wanting to hold him. </p><p> </p><p>Michonne stares at the baby for a long moment before promptly bursting into tears.</p><p> </p><p>Knowing from Maggie's own labor that this is normal, Carl leans back a bit, turning when he hears the door creaking open. Little Judith Grimes peaks into the room, eyes wide with worry, and Carl motions for her to come to him. He pulls the five-year-old girl into his lap so she can see her new baby brother, who Michonne had started covering with kisses, much to Carl's amusement. In the corner of his vision, he sees Siddiq leaving the room, leaving the new family of four to their own devices.</p><p> </p><p>Carl watches as she cradles the baby close, and while he squirms a bit, the baby settles down after a moment, nuzzling his tiny face into Michonne's chest. Michonne smiles through the tears streaming down her face, and Carl doesn't need anyone to tell him to know that he is doing the same. </p><p> </p><p>"He's tiny," Judith says, her voice filled with awe, "was I that tiny?"</p><p> </p><p>"Mhm, you were just as tiny as he was at one point - and just as loud," Carl tells her, his smile turning wider when he hears Michonne let out a soft laugh. "He's beautiful, Mom."</p><p> </p><p>Carl realizes his mistake mere seconds after he said it, but before he can open his mouth to apologize, he realizes that he doesn't even regret it. Michonne might not be his real mother, but she's done a damn good job at being one to him and Judith. So instead, he offers Michonne a sheepish smile, and Michonne beams over at him, looking both overjoyed and a tad shocked. </p><p> </p><p>"He really is," Michonne says after a moment, her voice hoarse from her earlier screaming. </p><p> </p><p>"What are you going to name him?" Michonne had told him a couple months ago that she had a name picked out for the baby, but whenever anyone asked she refused to say. She had offered to tell Carl the name, but he had wanted to wait until the baby was born to hear it.</p><p> </p><p>Michonne presses a kiss to the baby's forehead. "Rick," she says while pulling away, "I'm going to name him Rick." </p><p> </p><p>Carl inhales sharply, trying desperately to blink away the tears in his eye. "That's... that's a good name."</p><p> </p><p>Little RJ Grimes stretches out his tiny arms, gurgling, and Carl finds himself reaching out once more. Michonne lets Carl take RJ into his arms again, and, while being careful of Judith, who remained sitting in his lap, Carl holds RJ close to his chest. </p><p> </p><p>Judith peers at the baby in Carl's arm, "can I hold him?"</p><p> </p><p>Carl looks up, catching Michonne's eye. She gives him a small nod. Carl glances back down at Judith, "yes, but you have to be very, very careful. Babies are fragile."</p><p> </p><p>Judith holds out her arms, and gently Carl sets RJ down into them, adjusting Judith's grip and making it so that she holds him correctly. A grin spreads across Judith's face, and she sticks her tongue out at RJ. "When will he be big enough to play with me?"</p><p> </p><p>"A couple of months, maybe," Michonne says, "trust me, he'll be running around before you know it."</p><p> </p><p>Carl laughs, pressing a kiss to Judith's hair and grinning over at Michonne. He takes RJ back into his arms again, pressing a kiss to the baby's cheek before passing him back over to Michonne. As Carl watches his step-mother cradle RJ close, a feeling of warmth blooms in his chest, and deep down, he knows that they are going to be okay.</p><p> </p><p>All of them will, and little RJ Grimes will only help them get there. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <strong> A few years later Michonne is teaching Judith and RJ: <strong> Remember, violence is never the answer</strong></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong> Carl: <strong> She's right</strong></strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <strong> Michonne: <strong> Thank y-</strong></strong>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <strong>
            <strong>
              <strong> Carl: <strong> Violence is the question</strong></strong>
            </strong>
          </strong>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <strong>
      <strong>
        <strong>
          <strong>
            <strong>
              <strong>
                <strong>
                  <strong> Carl: <strong> -and the answer is <em>yes<em></em></em></strong></strong>
                </strong>
              </strong>
            </strong>
          </strong>
        </strong>
      </strong>
    </strong>
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